


To Fill the Silence

by Lady_Quill



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:09:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Quill/pseuds/Lady_Quill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagined scene between Gertrude and Ophelia after Act IV Scene 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Fill the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt "things that go bump in the night" did get included halfway through the story although rather indirectly... thanks for letting me join in the story tag! Sorry again for writing a sad piece (although, in my defense, it's totally Shakespeare's fault).
> 
> This is my last story for at least the next week (exams are coming up) but I came up with the next prompt: midnight snack

At half past ten she found the girl sitting in the middle of the floor, piles of letters scattered around her.  The queen had seen sorrow before, but nothing like this, nothing like madness.  And it scared her, because she didn't know what was causing it; she didn't know how to fix it.  It wasn't like she could resurrect the poor girls' father and even if she could... no, she didn't want to go there.  It wasn't her place to judge how a dead man had parented his daughter, even if he'd been rather harsh on the girl in the wake of the queen's recent marriage and son's reclusion.  She walked a little closer, just enough to hear Ophelia singing and whispering to herself. 

 

"He is dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone..."  The girl began to sob, so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the queen approaching.  "...at his head a grass green turf, at his heels a stone."

 

"What are you singing, dear Ophelia?  Still the same songs as yesterday?"

 

The girl looked up, startled, and for a minute she looked like she would run.  "I..."  Gertrude sat beside the girl on the floor, careful not to disturb the arrangement of letters.  "My father used to sing to Laertes and I... when we were little.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

“When we grew up he stopped... and it was so quiet.  Always so quiet, because you can focus when it’s quiet.  One must grow up and learn to stop singing…  And now he's dead and gone and he will ne'er come again."

 

"Your father didn't die because of you, dear," the queen reasoned.  "Hamlet thought -"

 

"If what we wish… we are still guilty.  A wish is enough to corrupt the mind... the soul... If I'd been good, perhaps there would have been more songs.  It’s so empty now, without anyone watching…"

 

“Why would anyone be watching, dear?”

 

“Yes, why indeed?” she laughed, but it was bitter.

 

Gertrude stared at the girl.  Ophelia was at least calmer than the day before, singing wildly and clinging to everyone in the courtroom.  “Ophelia, I don’t understand.”  There was a loud crash – one of the guards outside the room – and the girl shrieked.  She buried her face in her hands, and for all of her madness she simply looked like a child terrified of things that go bump in the night.  The queen moved closer and made to put an arm around her.  Ophelia tensed, but gave in to the embrace.  She put her head on the queen’s lap, where Gertrude could feel fresh tears soaking through her skirts.

 

“ _To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,_  
All in the morning bedtime,” the queen began to sing.  Ophelia relaxed a little, and she continued.  
“ _And I a maid at your window,_  
To be your Valentine.”

 

“Please, don’t stop?” the girl asked quietly.  Gertrude petted her hair, much like she used to Hamlet’s when he was little and let his mother do such things.

 __  
“Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es  
And dupp'd the chamber door,  
Let in the maid, that out a maid  
Never departed more.”

 

“I must go to bed now, Ophelia.  It is late, and we all should get some sleep.”  But the girl latched onto the queen’s arm and held it tightly.

 

“No, please don’t go!”

 

“Ophelia, you need to go too.”

 

“I promise, I promise I’ll be good!  Whatever you want from me, just please don’t leave!”  The queen sighed; it was all rather pitiable but there wasn’t anything she could do.

 

“I’m sorry, my dear.  I’ll see you tomorrow, perhaps.”  She forced Ophelia to let go of her arm and stood up.  “Do you want one of the guards to walk you home?”

 

“No, I’ll… I suppose I’ll pray.”

 

“Good night, then.”

 

“Good night, sweet lady.”  The queen walked away; she couldn’t bear the sight of the poor girl any longer.  Maybe someone would watch over Ophelia and make sure she got home safely.  The long staircase up to her chambers was eerily silent, except for the drifting melody of a child’s tune…

 

“ _How should I your true-love know_  
From another one?  
By his cockle bat and' staff  
And his sandal shoon…”


End file.
